This Is Why I'm Here
by RegalQuill
Summary: Sometimes we all need that one person that helps us find release.
1. Emma

My knuckles rap on the door of 108 Mifflin Street. I can see my breath in the cold winter air as I wait for the woman inside to grant me access. I blow hot air into my palms until the door swings open to reveal Regina. The rest of the town might still see her as the Evil Queen, but not me. It's been a long time since I could see her as anything other than just Regina. When I look at her standing there holding the door open, I can see why she texted me earlier to come over tonight. Her shoulders are slumped in a most un-mayorally fashion. Her eyes are dull, so unlike the bright browns that she shows the rest of the world. It's okay though, because I know just what she needs.

She nods her head at me. That is the only invitation I need to step across the threshold of the mansion. We don't exchange many words on nights like these, in favor of other forms of communication. She snags my hand in hers as she walks past and I follow her, powerless to do anything else.

When we first started this arrangement, it was a surprise to both of us. Neither of us could imagine that we would find this kind of release in each others arms. Sometimes things are very one sided, the entire night focused on the other's needs. On occasion we fall asleep afterward. Henry has caught a few of my early morning escapes. Regina doesn't know about that and Henry and I intend to keep it that way. He's old enough to know that sometimes adults need their privacy.

She leads me upstairs to her bedroom and closes the door behind us. She makes her way into the bathroom to complete her nightly routine and I slip my red leather jacket off and drape it across the chaise. When she opens the door she is fresh faced without a bit of makeup, one of my old sweatshirts I accidentally left here after one of our nights, engulfs her small frame. The outfit is finished with a pair of loose yoga pants, I can't help thinking she's never looked more beautiful.

She stands there unsure, her fingers twist around each other until she presses her hand flat against her stomach. It's the same nervous ritual every time. I hope one day she can abandon the need to think twice about our arrangement. I look into her eyes from across the room as I walk to the bed and lay down.

"Come here, Sweetheart." The first words spoken this evening, but not the last. I know she needs to hear them. To be reassured that this is okay. She bites her lip and I see her shoulders sag as she sighs. Her bare feet carry her to the opposite side of the bed, where she fights another bout of insecurity. I reach out and grab her hand, and that is all it takes. She climbs on the bed and lays on her side facing me.

I brush the hair out of her face and stroke her cheek with the pads of my fingers. My arms slide around her, one supports her neck, the other wraps around her slender waist. The first time we did this, I was amazed at how light the imposing woman was. With a gentle tug she slides close to me and buries her face in my neck.

I feel her breath as it caresses my neck. Her body tenses in my arms a moment before she begins to let go. The tears cascade down her face and land in warm dots across my neck and shoulder. My hands begin to stroke a familiar path up and down her back.

"Let it all go, Regina, I've got you. You're safe." Her sobs get louder. My fingers thread through her hair when I feel her gather my shirt and curl her hands into tight fists against my chest. I kiss the crown of hair beneath my chin. My hand works it's way under the sweatshirt she wears. I know the skin to skin contact does wonders for her, but I am always careful never to tread further than her lower back, that's not what I'm here for.

After about half an hour, her crying gets softer until only an occasional sniffle is heard. I try to pull back to check in with her visually, but her fists clench in my shirt and won't let me move.

"Shh...I'm not going any where, honey." She nods against me, as she begins to relax in my embrace. Tonight was pretty bad, but I don't ask what happened. Sometimes she tells me and sometimes she doesn't and that's okay. We respect each others boundaries. I pull the covers up around us and flick my wrist to extinguish the light, sensing she needs to be held throughout the night. I close my eyes, as I feel her breath start to even out and her body get heavy with exhaustion.

This is a part of Regina that no one else, not even Henry gets to see. When she needs to fall apart, I come and hold the pieces together for her.

This is why I'm here.


	2. Regina

Emma lets things fester. She tries to be all things to everyone in this little town. Most of all she tries to be their beloved Savior. None of them know she hates that title. Every time it's spoken in place of her name the weight on her shoulders gets heavier and heavier. I sit here across the diner, with my simple cup of coffee and watch it happen more times than I'd like to admit.

I never think of her as my savior, even though she did save me. Not in the sense of pushing me out of danger or things of those nature, although she has performed those acts at one point or another. No, she saved ME. The part inside that I had built my walls around, never to let another soul get close to ever again. She scaled that wall and helped me discover that part of myself again. I know I still struggle to let myself crumble in her arms, but she never wavers in her understanding of the words I need to hear, or the actions that will cause the first crack to appear. Then afterward, she holds me until I can pull myself together to face the world again.

This arrangement we have isn't one sided. While I will call or text her to invite her over when the need arises, she retreats from the world, from me, when things start to weigh her down. As I look at her standing at the counter waiting for her hot chocolate, I know this is what she's been doing lately. So I lay my money on the chipped table and, as I walk toward the exit, I brush my hand across her lower back. The almost imperceptible nod is her signal to me. Tonight will be one of our nights.

After darkness has fallen and I've seen Henry off to a sleep over, I head to Emma's apartment. I don't knock, not anymore. The key she gave me for nights like these slides into the lock. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dimness of the room. When they do I see the figure laying on her side with her back pressed into the couch cushion. She stares blankly at the dark television. When she doesn't even glance my way I know it's bad tonight. I enter the room and silently slip my heels off and place them where neither of us will trip on them later. My jacket goes next and is draped across the recliner in the corner.

The remote is on the coffee table, so I flick the television on as I pass, not that the program matters, but I've learned that she will never allow herself to let go if it is silent in the room. After the background noise is taken care of, I study her face, as I take the final steps to the couch. She doesn't respond to my presence in the room, in fact I'm not even sure she knows I'm there. And that's okay. Because just like she knows what I need on nights like these, I've learned what she needs too.

I lower myself into the space she left open in front of her, my head lays next to hers on the plush throw pillow. My gaze is glued to the television, not seeing what's on. Sometimes this part takes awhile, I know she fights herself, but I've learned if I say anything during this time she will retreat once more. So, I remain quiet, my breathing steady, and even though it doesn't seem like it, my entire being is attuned to her. I close my eyes in relief when her arms surround my waist. She pulls me close until my back is pressed tightly to her front, her face is lost in my hair. Her warm breath brushes across the back of my neck as her respiration becomes jerky. I remain still until I feel the first hot tear land against my skin. Only then do I run my fingers down her arm and lace them with hers. She squeezes my hand almost to the point of pain, but it's okay, I understand.

Other than the sound of the sitcom on the television, the room remains silent. The vibrations of her body against mine are the only indication that she is crying. I asked her once about this, how she can remain so quiet at times like these, she explained it was a lesson she learned in one of her foster homes. Because of the shadow that crossed her eyes, I never asked about it again. I don't need to hear her sobs to know she is falling apart behind me. Every instinct is telling me to turn and pull her to me, hold her in my arms, tell her I love her, but it's not time for that.

Instead, I stroke the back of her hand just to let her know I'm here. I'll lay like this for as long as it takes and wait for the signal that always comes eventually. Until then I listen to her sniffles, her breath hitch and catch in her chest, and feel her fingers open and close around the fabric across my abdomen. She clears her throat behind me and I find myself holding my breath.

"Gina" Her voice always sounds so small in these moments. This is the signal I've been waiting for. I carefully roll over in the circle of her arms. Her green eyes are red rimmed. She seems a bit more relaxed, but I can tell she hasn't let go fully. My fingers thread through her golden curls before I cup her face in my hands.

"I see you, Emma Swan. Just Emma, nothing more, nothing less." Her face crumples before me and I turn until my back is flat on the couch. With a gentle hand on the crook of her neck, I guide her head to rest against my shoulder. The second bout of crying isn't nearly as silent as the first. My fingers never stop tracing patterns on her back. Eventually, she releases a huge sigh and the room becomes quiet once more. Knowing she usually gets chilly afterward, I reach for the blanket on the back of the couch and tuck it around us.

"How do you always know, Gina? Yet no one else can see." Her voice is raspy and muffled against my chest. My lips betray me and say the first words that came to mind.

"Because they don't love you like I do." She goes still in my arms. There is no way she can't hear my heart beat, because it feels like it's about to burst from my chest any minute. I can't believe I said that, especially on a night like this. She is going to hate me for ruining our arrangement. Unable to stop them, tears fill my eyes. I can feel her pulling away from me and moving to get up off the couch. She's leaving me and it hurts more than I can say. Not willing or able to watch her leave, I slam my eyes shut. Tears leak from behind my eyelids. I hope she doesn't notice.

I'm so lost in my own turmoil that I almost miss the feather light touch on my cheek. When my eyes open I see her hovering above me. She leans down and kisses my cheek. When she pulls back her eyes are filled with tears once more, but there is no sadness there. She sends me a watery smile.

"No one loves you like I do, too, Gina." I return her watery smile and pull her back to her previous position against my shoulder. We both release twin sighs. This is not how I pictured our night playing out, but the end result is just the same. The woman, who lets things fester until she retreats so far inside herself that I have to come find her, is now laying in my arms, relaxed and safe in the knowledge that to me she is not the Savior. With me, she is, and will always be just my Emma.

This is a part of Emma that no one else gets to see. When the expectations of our silly little town become too much, I become her anchor. I remind her of who she is inside.

This is why I'm here.


End file.
